Ink was running late. The distant chiming of the city clock that followed every hour reminded her of that. But she made no move to rush, and in fact, no move or indication that she had even heard it.

She stepped lightly through piles of snow that were still gathered at street corners, moving with the crowd, another bystander come to view the city’s morning lights, as inconspicuous as the rest of them. She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk as the crowd slowed. Trucks blared past, pushing through sludge and wet muck, and cars followed in their wake. The light turned from a red hand to a white stick figure, and the crowd began to move, and Ink along with it.

Vaguely she recalled the path she had to take, but it seemed almost like a distant isle in her mind, just close enough that she could see the shore, but not close enough that she could make out the exact details. Street sign names blended together. Once or twice she had to stop to gather her bearings, and even then, she did so slowly. The city clock reminded her once again of her tardiness, but her legs did not heed the call. She would arrive when she arrived, no matter how inconvenient.

Finally, after a swirling spell of mild confusion and mistaking a boulevard for an avenue, she finally arrived in front of Sugarcube Corner. She paused to look up at it. There had been some changes to the front. The cupcake decoration had changed color, now orange instead of pink. The Christmas lights were still present; she supposed that was fine, since it was barely a week after Christmas. Barely a week after…

She let out a sigh, breath coming out frosty. Then she stepped through the double glass doors.

Music was drifting through the air in soft, melodic beats—acoustic, jazz, a combination of the two—a surprise for the little bakery which was known more for playing loud pop when the radio was on. Ink paused only a moment to register the change. She looked around, scanning the tables, and saw several familiar faces among them—some of whom had been at the hospital for their own reasons. None turned to face her. They all were in their own little world, a world made of cups of coffee and hot chocolate and pastries—warm distractions, for sure.

She walked until she spotted a familiar booth. It was there that she saw Artifex. His cane was nearby. Beside him, though, sat Adagio, dressed in a lavender wool sweater—a gift from the boy, perhaps?

Both looked up when she approached, and both smiled at her. She simply nodded to the two of them, then sat down, scooting into the middle of the booth.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ink said quietly. Her hands settled in her lap.

Artifex sipped from his cup, eyes closing for a moment, before lowering it. “It’s fine, Ink. I hope you don’t mind the increase in present company, though.”

“Of course I don’t. Morning, Adagio. That’s a nice sweater.”

“Good morning, Ink. Yes, it is very nice. Sometimes Sonata has good taste.”

So it was her sister who had gotten it. Ink nodded.

Then Pinkie came by, or rather, bounced over to them, as enthusiastic as ever. When she saw Ink, she noticeably mellowed out, but maintained a happy smile. “Inky! So good to see you!” She leaned in and squeezed the girl hard.

“Ah! Y-yes, nice to see you, too, Pinkie,” Ink managed to gasp out.

“What can I get you? The usual?”

“Yes, please. And this time I’m paying for it,” she added, shooting Artifex a glance. He raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Okie dokie lokie! And what about you two lovebirds?” she addressed the couple. The boy blushed, while Adagio giggled. “Need anything else? Maybe a private booth?”

“Pinkie,” Artifex warned. His face reddened. Adagio’s giggle became a cackle.

“Oh, you silly boy,” she murmured into his ear. He blushed even harder as Pinkie laughed. Even Ink managed a tiny chuckle.

“Is this woman too much for you?” Adagio said as Pinkie walked away.

“Sometimes,” Artifex said to Ink. He got a light punch from his girlfriend in return.

Girlfriend.

While the two bantered, Ink turned that word over in her mind. Somehow, it was still hard to believe. This boy who seldom spoke but who, when he did, spoke with incredible wisdom and guidance, and this girl, a former villain, flirty, catty, and still a bit sinister… how had they ever ended up together? And wasn’t it true that the two had started off, to put it nicely, on the wrong foot? Remarkable, still, was that Adagio had become quite friendly with Artifex’s friend group, most of which had been responsible for her and her sisters’ downfall. Sunset in particular had become Adagio’s closest girl friend, outside of her own family, of course.

Artifex and Adagio. The ex-Chronicler and the ex-Siren. Different in their own ways, and yet, now that she viewed them together, she could see why they were together. Pieces of the same puzzle, come together for the full picture. She smiled a little.

Pinkie came back with the usual. Ink thanked her and took a sip. It was good and warm, and yet she found herself missing the pinch of cinnamon.

The couple’s banter died down, and both turned to regard her with careful stares. It seemed their attitude had changed. Dwindled, perhaps, in optimism, but carefully masked with their smiles. “So,” Adagio began, “how are things, Ink?”

She knew what she was asking, but Ink nonetheless waited a moment to answer. She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking about what to say. I guess I should talk about the most obvious thing…

“I’m living with the Apples,” she said. “Big Mac invited me.”

“Is that so?” Artifex asked, tilting his head. “Well, that’s very nice of him, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah,” Ink replied with a nod. “I, uh, moved in a few days ago. It was a little jarring at first, but I think I’ve gotten used to it. Big Mac will be driving me to school along with Apple Bloom and Applejack in the morning, once school starts, of course.”

“Good. The bus isn’t worth the ride.”

“Artifex, you’ve not even ridden the bus,” Adagio pointed out.

“I aim not to. You either drive yourself, get driven, or walk.”

“Get driven by a taxi?”

“The only way to travel.”

“If you don’t believe in boats and planes.”

“Or bicycles,” Ink inputted.

Artifex rolled his eyes. “Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you?”

“You’re not down, you’re just saying taxis are better than planes.”

“So you and Mac have been spending a lot of time together,” Adagio said before Artifex could retort. “How’s that been?”

“What do you mean?” Ink said. “It’s… well, it’s nice, and all. You know.”

“I suppose I do.” She glanced at Artifex, then winked. “In some ways.”

Ink pushed on. “It’s nice, really. He’s been really nice to me. Taking me in, cooking me breakfast—”

“He did what?” Artifex said with a faux-gasp.

“Yes, and he cooks a mean omelette, too.” Ink giggled. “And his family is really nice, you know. Especially Apple Bloom. Gosh, she’s such a sweetheart.”

“I’ve seen her around,” Adagio said. “And she’s not alone. She and her Crusader friends have been having some not-so-secret admirers.”

“No!” Ink leaned forward.

Artifex also glanced at his girlfriend. “Really? I thought those boys were just really good friends with them…”

“You mean like how Sonata and you are good friends? I don’t think so. That Tender Taps boy, for example.” Adagio shrugged, grinning. “I’ve seen the way he glances at Apple Bloom. He’s wearing his heart on his sleeve, and she doesn’t even know!”

“It’s probably good she doesn’t,” Ink said. “Because then she’d tell Applejack, and then Applejack would scare off Tender.”

“Apples are hard to love,” Artifex said. “Which might explain why Applejack doesn’t have a boyfriend. And isn’t interested in one at the moment.”

“Have you forgotten that boy at Treble’s party?” Adagio said. “I think she’s starting to see the light. And besides… not all Apples, it seems, are hard to love.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

Both of them turned to Ink, their smiles teasing. Ink looked at the two of them. She blinked. Then she leaned back and sighed. “Oh, ha, ha, you two. Listen. It’s not like that, really.”

“Really? But you were speaking so highly of him just now,” Adagio said.

“You haven’t spoken so highly of anyone else,” Artifex added. “Not to mention the fact that the two of you are living together, essentially.”

Ink blushed a furious red. “S-So? That doesn’t mean anything!”

“It means as much as you want it to mean,” Adagio countered. “Admit it, Ink. You like him.”

Instantly, Ink had flashbacks to that Christmas night, to what Applejack said, and then to that moment afterwards, between herself and Mac; and then, further into that memory still, the two of them on the porch, and she recalled, her face so red it hurt, how close they had gotten.

“Th-that doesn’t matter!” she exclaimed. “B-besides, Mac’s already got a girlfriend…”

The silence was monumental. And it lasted all of three seconds.

“He what?!”

That was Artifex. That was Artifex? Ink glanced at the boy, who was currently standing over the table, hands slammed down on the surface. Adagio touched his hand. He looked down, realized what he was doing, then slowly returned to his seat.

“Yeah,” Ink said a bit shakily. “Well, it’s more like an old girlfriend… actually, I’m not even sure it’s official.”

“We’re missing some context. Ink, what do you mean, he’s got a girlfriend?” Adagio asked. “I thought he was single!”

Ink’s hands came together. “He was, until yesterday…”

“Sugar Belle?”

She looked a bit like Pinkie, with the same skin color, or at least a close shade of it, but her hair was a puffier wine-purple with cerulean hair bands tying up the ends. When she nodded, these bounced. Magenta eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled at Big Mac. “Hello, big boy.”

Big boy? Ink stared out the girl, recalling immediately all that Applejack had said of her. Her fists clenched. She hid them behind her back. What is she doing here?

Ink could practically hear Apple Bloom’s anger billowing out of her, and she stepped a little in front of the young girl so as to prevent her from doing something she might regret. Mac, meanwhile, stood still, mouth agape and hands slipping off of the doorknob.

Sugar Belle tilted her head, flashing a dazzling smile. “Well? Can I come in? It’s quite cold out, you know.”

“Oh! Er—” Mac stepped awkwardly back, nearly pushing Ink away. “S-sure, Ah mean… yeah, it’s a bit cold, and—just—come in, eeyup…”

Sugar Belle did. Knee-high snow boots matched in color the shade of her teal down coat, all of which were wet with snow. As Mac closed the door behind her, she proceeded to slowly take off her coat and boots—it was almost as if she was purposely taking her time. Underneath she wore a sleeveless, faded-pink sweater that, in Ink’s honest opinion, hugged a little too tightly to her figure. Black yoga pants finished her outfit, and Ink was of the same opinion of them.

The air felt oddly heavy.

Sugar Belle let out a little sigh. “Wow. It has been so long since I’ve been in here, hasn’t it? I’m glad to see it’s barely changed. Just as charmingly rustic as ever.” She held her coat and boots in her hand, looking around at the home.

“Er, yeah…” Big Mac rubbed the back of his head. Then, as if pushed from behind, he seized the clothing Sugar held and hung the coat on the coat rack and placed the boots in the corner. “We, ah, don’t change too much, y’know?”

“I know,” Sugar Belle said, once again flashing a smile in his direction. Ink noticed Mac’s face turning redder and redder.

Then Sugar Belle turned around and saw Ink. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her smile fell just a little. “Oh? I’m sorry, Mac, I didn’t know you had a visitor.”

“It’s no bother!” Mac was quick to say, but he turned to Ink and asked, “Ain’t that right?”

“Er, right… No bother.” Ink stepped away from Apple Bloom (who was still seething in silence) and held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ink Quill.”

“Sugar Belle. Charmed.” The other girl took her hand lightly, looking her up and down. Ink suddenly felt enormously self-conscious. Suddenly her periwinkle sweater and indigo pants seemed unfitting, poor in comparison. Sugar Belle tilted her head, revealing yet another facet of her attire: a pair of golden earrings in the shape of slices of pie. Ink resisted the urge to cover her bare ears.

Sugar Belle looked first at Ink, then back at Mac. She was smiling full again, but there was something hidden in there. “Mac? I didn’t know you had taken up dating again.”

Both the boy and the girl blushed. “That’s not—we—” Ink stuttered.

“We’re just friends,” Mac said. And while Ink was quick to vocally agree, she felt something in her chest flare up. Even Mac looked as if saying that had caused physical harm.

Sugar Belle, on the other hand, seemed to relax at their affirmation. “Really?” she said. “I thought that your sister wouldn’t have allowed just any girl over.”

“I’m not just any girl,” Ink murmured. She was ignored.

“Ink’s a good friend,” Mac said, stepping forward. “And it ain’t Applejack’s business who I let come over—”

His voice trailed, and he stopped as of struck by something. Ink saw Sugar Belle smirk. “Oh? You’ve finally noticed, haven’t you? I’m wearing your favorite…”

It was then that Ink realized why the air felt heavy. A scent was lingering, a nice one: perfume. And judging by the look in Mac’s eyes, he not only recognized it, he was smitten by it.

And it was then that Apple Bloom finally broke her silence. She stomped past Ink, hands in fists. Her eyes flashed dangerously. “What the hell are y’doing back here?!” she shouted.

Sugar Belle appeared at a loss for words, one hand covering her mouth, but Mac was quick to come to her aid. “Apple Bloom!” He glared down at his sister, who shrunk under his gaze. “That ain’t how you talk to a guest! Apologize!”

“But, Mac—”

“Ah said apologize!”

“Mac, she don’t belong here!”

“Apple Bloom, I’m warning you—”

“No! Not until she does! After what she did—”

Her words caught in her throat. Mac had gone silent, bearing a shocked expression, as did Ink. Only Sugar Belle appeared unaffected.

There was a period of silence and heavy breathing. Then Apple Bloom shook her head, disgusted. “I’m going to mah room,” she murmured.

She turned around and stomped away, and made no effort to hide her displeasure. A few minutes later, they all heard the sound of a door being slammed.

Big Mac turned to Sugar Belle. His shoulders noticeably drooped. “I’m sorry ‘bout that, Sugar Belle,” he said quietly. “Apple Bloom should know better—”

“There’s no need to apologize, Big Mac,” she interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m sure she’s just stressed out. That’s all. And… she has a point.”

She stepped forward, the hand coming out and landing on Mac’s cheek. Her voice lowered to a breathless murmur. “I’ve made mistakes, Mac. Plenty, I’m sure. But I want to atone for them. Make up for them. Make it up to you.”

“Sugar Belle…”

“Could you ever forgive me, Mac? Let me try again? I promise I’ll do better this time.”

“Sugar, I…”

And then she had laced both hands around his neck and was pressing up against him, holding him close, keeping his gaze locked onto hers. They were both silent. Waiting. For what?

Sugar Belle didn’t glance at Ink as she said, “Would you give us a moment alone, dear? I think Mac and I need it.”

“Oh, um… sure.” Ink nodded. She felt her face. Hot, flushed. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll… leave you two alone.”

But she didn’t move. Not at first. Her legs were locked in place, her hands clenched so tightly together they were turning white. Move, damn it! Why can’t I move?

Mac’s voice came from afar. He sounded out of focus. “Ink?”

“Yeah, I know—” She knew she was going to say more, and yet her voice died away. Her legs finally unlocked themselves. Freed from her paralysis, she turned and walked off, leaving the two alone in the foyer.

They were quiet in the booth. The other patrons had cleared out and now it was just them and the sounds of the bakery and the music playing. Ink’s drink had cooled. She glanced down at it, but felt no urge to drink it.

Opposite of her were two different reactions. Artifex, in silence, had descended into a furious stupor. His brow had furrowed, eyes narrowed. His hands were noticeably clenching, and his lips were twisted into a terrible grimace, like he had digested something awful. Adagio, on the other hand, peered at Ink with concerned eyes, her mouth slightly open. Her hands were in her lap, and she was leaning over the table, looking at Ink with those eyes, words dangling from her lips but never falling, never forming.

“... that was yesterday,” Ink said softly, not daring to meet the gaze of the two who sat in front of her. “I haven’t seen them since.”

“Why?” Adagio asked.

“When… when I came back, they were gone. I guess they decided to go driving around. Maybe just to talk, or…”

“Or nothing,” Artifex muttered. “Talk? Bull.”

“Artifex,” Adagio chided. “Maybe they’re just settling old grudges. Like we did.”

“No, not like we did,” Artifex replied, looking sharply up at his girlfriend. His gaze was intense, but she, to her infinite credit, did not falter. “This is different, Adagio. I can feel it.”

“... okay, maybe it is,” she admitted, “but, we should give this Sugar Belle some benefit of the doubt.”

Artifex said nothing to that. Adagio turned back to Ink. “Does Applejack know?”

“I’d imagine now she does,” Ink said, leaning back and crossing her arms. She looked out the window, at the city, the street, the cars. “I heard her come home later with Granny Smith. Apple Bloom practically bolted out of her room to go find them. She must have told them what happened, but after that, I didn’t hear anything from either. They must have been mad. So mad…”

“Why would they be mad?” Adagio asked.

“I don’t know. All I know is that there’s some bad blood between the Apples and Sugar Belle.”

“Bad blood that Mac would apparently prefer to ignore,” Artifex said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttered a curse. “Ah… I’m sorry, Ink. I shouldn’t be this angry, but when two of my friends are just suddenly driven apart…”

“It’s not like that,” Ink said, but she knew she didn’t sound convinced. She kept looking outside.

What was it like, then? They were just friends, right? Ink had no control over who Big Mac met, or saw, or let into his home, and who cared that Sugar Belle had done something awful in the past, something that made Big Mac quiet, and Applejack angry and protective of him, and Apple Bloom, the sweetest girl Ink had ever met, so fierce and hostile? It didn’t matter, right?

Right?

“Well…” But then Ink’s voice faded away as she saw who walked past. Artifex and Adagio turned to look, and let out their own startled gasps.

It was those two.

Big Mac and Sugar Belle.

And they were laughing.

Smiling.

Holding each other close and walking right past them. Seemingly without a care in the world.

They stopped. Mac said something. Sugar Belle laughed a little harder. Then, she leaned up close to Mac’s face and—

Ink blinked. The moment passed. Then they were walking.

She kept staring. They all kept staring.

Mac stopped. Had he noticed? He turned, saw Sugarcube Corner, saw through the glass, looked through, saw her. He paused. His face was messy, unreadable, mixed… wrong. That was the word. It was just wrong. It just was.

Sugar Belle said something, then pulled him away, and then they were gone.

No one there spoke for a while.

Then, Artifex grabbed his cane. “I’m going after him. I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind—”

And Adagio was moving, too. “Not unless I get to him first, dear.”

“Wait.”

They stopped at the sound of Ink’s voice. “Please,” she murmured, “please. Don’t… just don’t.”

“Ink,” Artifex said, but Ink shook her head. “Please, Artifex, don’t make this a big deal. Because it’s not. Really.”

She tried for a smile, but the smile, she knew, fell short. Was disingenuous. Fake. Forced.

Painful.

Her eyes were filling with something, and she knew they would see them. So she quickly stood, nearly knocking over her drink. Hastily she pulled out a wad of cash and stuck it next to the saucer. “Really, it’s fine,” she said. “You don’t… don’t do anything, okay? Really. Please. I just… I need to go.”

“Ink…”

“I need to go.”

And then she, too, was gone.